Two hands,
Going round, never stopping.
Always on the same face that never stops changing.
And guiding internally from the outside is forever,
Light to dark, and back to light again,
Traveling, high and low.
Holding everything and the spinning still doesn’t stop.
Rotating, round and round,
Hot to cool to cold to warm.
Even the light in the unknown dances.
Full and bright to dark and lost.
Nothing steady to follow.
But there is one.
One thing to look for.
One face that will always be there.
One hand that won’t leave.